


Melody

by cecefi



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Musical Bonding, Not really cohesive, Other, Romance?, also yes i like rasputin dont judge me, i have art 2 but havent decided on posting it, i might delete this we'll see, idk just something i had to get off my chest, mute character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecefi/pseuds/cecefi
Summary: just a lil something about my mute guardian discovering an old talent from his last life and sharing it with his strange AI crush
Relationships: guardian/rasputin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Melody

The Guardian had learned, rather re-learned he had a talent for music only a few days after he woke up. Woke up meaning became a Guardian as they called it. While he had completed his tour of the tower only a few days prior and got acquainted with those in the know it all still felt alien. The knowing looks of other Guardians mixed with the confusion as he tried to communicate proved frustrating. His sign language was a bit antiquated, his new ghost did his best to translate, but in the decades he had been “asleep” many signs had changed. Like language the culture had also changed, not that he remembered what his life was like before.

There was a small gathering in the square near Ikora, his new mentor he had learned, guardians and civilians alike chatting and eating. The architecture of the area framed the little enclave beautifully, even the sound of the instruments being lightly played bounced off the walls in a pleasing fashion, enhancing their acoustics. He stood off to the side, only there from the encouragement of Ikora and his ghost.   
_“The sooner you reach out and get to know your comrades the better,”_ She had said gently. _“They’ve all been in your shoes once, and if any of them give you trouble, you let me know.”_

Her mothering aura had been incredibly reassuring at the time, she being one of the few people to immediately talk directly to him, instead of talking at his ghost like he wasn’t even there while his ghost translated. 

Even with the encouragement, the event was proving to be a lost cause. Everyone was polite of course, but they all knew each other. The Guardians in the small crowd were easy to spot, most still in pieces of armor and their dancing more pronounced. Dancing was supposed to help this strange disconnect he was currently feeling, not just the social one, but the physical one from being brought back to life. 

“Thinking about joining in?”

His ghost bobbed lightly near his shoulder, the two pieces of his white shell occasionally rotating almost like he was also mulling the idea over.

The Guardian shook his head, watching as the small band brought their latest song to it’s conclusion. The music was the only thing keeping him there so far. It was light jazz, pre written parts mixed with fantastic improv by one of the musicians. Music not really meant for dancing, but that didn’t stop all of the guardians. 

The band members finally set down their instruments and stretched signalling it was time for a break and dispersed among the crowd, leaving their instruments idle. He found himself drawn to them, particularly the piano. Or at least he assumed it was a piano. It was far more advanced tech than he could fathom, the base much slimmer and streamlined so it was easy to transport and use. Plus being electronic meant no tuning or maintenance needed. 

He made his way around the small crowd, careful not to alert anyone or start a conversation. His ghost followed curiously, not prying, just observing. The piano was more intricate up close, while it was tech first, there was love in the craftsmanship. Buttons lightly gilded in gold, almost real looking keys....

No one was watching.

A single finger pressed a key. 

_ Ding _

……..

No response, not even a glance. It was almost ridiculous how everyone’s gaze seemed to pass over him, perhaps out of politeness or disregard. 

He didn’t even know if he could play.

With one more glance at the crowd, he slowly twisted the labeled volume button down. Just enough. Just enough so he alone could hear. 

Adjusting his novice warlock robes, he took a seat at the worn stool, instincts unknown to him taking over as he ran his hands over the keys, hand settling at Middle C. How did he know the name?

He tested a few keys, head tilted to one side trying to piece them together into something new, something pleasing. Something familiar. A few more notes and he found it, a sound he knew at his core. Slow at first, but with melody flowing he felt himself at a crossroads. If people were watching he didn’t know. Didn’t know if the band would return and yell at him. He had to find the song again.

Find the song written into his fingers and discover it anew. To know he had a talent, outside of just the new warlock to add to the ranks. Fingers dancing across the keys he clung to the melody. It must have been something special to him before. Did he write it himself? And If he did, did he write it for fun or for someone long dead? 

“Guardian..!”

There was a gentle nudge on his shoulder. It was enough to break the ritual, and he jerked his head towards his ghost.

“That’s great but I think the band is coming back!”

The fear of reprimand returned to him as his cheeks started to burn, politely standing and leaving the instrument behind. Leaving his song behind.

\-----

A month later his hands met the keys once again, now lit up in the red-orange glow of the massive lit core of a warmind. It was a strange situation all around, a man well versed in what was basically magic with little of his past to his name, politely asking for a one on one audience with a technological being beyond his comprehension. But this mass of code, Rasputin, seemed to share his interest. He had heard the music he adored, done his tasks and helped him with remembering his own past. There was a bond there, something that made the Guardian special to him. And he couldn’t help but share that kinship. There is no one he’d rather finish the song with.

Even as his heart raced just setting up the small electronic piano he had purchased, ignoring the nervous movements of his ghost as the massive metal doors sealed him in with the warmind core. He could have done this nearly anywhere with Rasputin’s level of surveillance. But he wanted it to be personal. 

Two beings who could not communicate without the help of others now without their interpreters in the room faced each other in pause. The core was almost entirely silent outside of the droning hum of the orange lights that now made up merely white noise. Fingers over the keys he started again, now the second time he had played this nameless song in his new life. 

Playing the piano or any instrument was like willingly sledding down a large hill. There is a clear right path to go and once you're in motion you can’t stop. If you hit a bump and are thrown off the path you need to keep going, forge that new one and do not. Look. Back. Or you will crash. 

He was sure he hit a wrong note or two, but he followed his muscle memory where it took him down each winding path. He almost forgot where he was, eyes closed in concentration as he reached the middle of the song he assumed, and passed it just as quickly.

The song was beautiful in completion as it was in motion, his finger lingered on the final key as the piano reverb finally finished, the frantic dancing lights of Rasputin’s core unchanging. Finishing the song surprisingly left him feeling a bit empty along with satisfied. Yes it was a piece of his past he had rediscovered, he had hyped it in his brain as he had been thrust into combat before he could finish it earlier. It had lived up to his romantization but-

  
  


**_̴̡͚͚̙̰̖͈̺͖̰͇̩͔͎̰͔͖̤͉п̵̧̠̦̠̼͇͔̯̟р҉҉͙̲̩̤̟̼̬͓̗̻ͅе̷͉̱̬̮̬̺̯̜̰̪̠͞͠ͅв͠҉̝͙͉̩͙̪о͇̪̝̲̲̫̕ͅс̧̝͈͙̯̦̰͘͜͝ͅх̷͖̤̼̰͇̜̰̣̻͇̝̬͖̫͘͞ͅо̴̪͙͓̼̘̺̠͖̥̣͍̮̥͈̞̞̫̬̕͢д͏̤̝̥͜н̨̛̫͎̠͔͘͟͢ы̸̠͕̪̪̩̞͎̫̤̺̳̕͜͡͡ͅй̢̡̨͓̞̫̤̫̖̮̯̳̯͙͡_ **

  
  
  
  


Rasputin’s simulated voice was deafening, his core distorting with each glitched syllable. He continued to “speak” only a few more phases that he could obviously not understand. Well understand as in translate, he could only hope that he had enjoyed the song at this point. All he could do was nod, signing a small thank you as he awkwardly ran his hand over the keys once more before moving to put the instrument away, hearing the metal doors behind him crank open.

Ana and his ghost stood backlit by the waning Mars sunset apprehensively as he motioned for them to approach. 

Once at his side the Guardian returned his gaze to the glowing core.

_ SONG-OK?  _

Ana’s brows furrowed while looking over her little laptop currently displaying Rasputin’s active transmission. 

“Guardian it was beautiful, won’t you play again for me sometime?”


End file.
